Outlaw Road (A MC Romance) (12 page)

The Knights were going to kill Flora.

Despite what was at stake for me, and the fact that I didn't know much about her, I didn't think I had it in me to watch them roll up and shoot her in the face. I was a selfish, prideful bastard, but it was the murdering of innocence that stayed with me, stubbornly refusing to be drowned in alcohol and pussy. It's what kept me awake in the small hours of the morning.

I wasn't looking for absolution. If Heaven did exist I probably wouldn’t see it. I just wanted to be able to sleep at night without the wrong person's blood on my hands. This whole thing was partially my fault. I had to figure out a way where she at least has some hope of surviving all of this, and for that, I needed a little more time.

“Tell the Knights that something came up and to pick her up tomorrow, instead.”

“You're not thinking of canceling, are you? No.” Roach shook his head and took up a stubborn tone. “I already told them! This is happening, I can't just change—”

I grabbed Roach by his ill-fitting, pompous white collar. “Come on, Lewis, you're good at working the angles, right?” Then I pulled him close enough for him to feel the hot breath of my adamant definitiveness on his beady, little eyes. “Figure it the fuck out,” I growled quietly through clenched teeth.

I didn't care how he did it. This wasn't a discussion open to debate, this was a command to be carried out.

Staring him down, I watched his steadfast resolve slip away like water down a shower drain. When he finally nodded, I shoved him aside and made my way towards the kitchen.

“Jesus...” Roach muttered under his breath when I was a safe distance away. He fixed his collar and added, “What the fuck happened to you?”

What did happen to me? My life used to be painlessly simple. I was the fucking breeze, just rolling in and out of towns whenever I pleased, beholden to no one but my pres. I wore my intentions on my sleeve and always knew the score. There was beauty in that, that utter simplicity.

Then Flora burrowed her way into my head and began clouding my decision making.

Roach didn't have much in the way of groceries left over from the weekend, but he did have a large, full kitchen to play with and enough ingredients left over to make due.

I always loved cooking. It was the one thing that relaxed me the most. The more chaotic and stressful my life was at the moment, the more elaborate I made my food to compensate. It allowed me to focus on the immediate and forget about all my other problems.

It was like transient art, but with a very necessary purpose; something beautiful that was ever changing.

I wrapped up the rest of the breakfast and had started washing up when Flora quietly pushed open the kitchen door. She appeared much more put together, the sallow color of her skin from the night before replaced by something pink, energetic. Combined with the clothes I'd washed for her—fresh jeans clinging to her legs and a fitted tanktop, her jacket no where in sight—Flora could have been a new person.

“That smells amazing,” she said.

My arms elbow deep in dishwater, I looked over at the timer. “It should be ready soon. There's some fruit on the table if you're hungry.”

“Oh god, yes!” Flora exclaimed. “I haven't eaten anything that didn't come wrapped in plastic in so long.” She made a beeline to the room's small food preparation table and immediately started picking at the chunks of melon and strawberries. “I never thought I could miss something as ordinary as fruit.”

In the faint reflection of the window before me, above the wash sink, I saw her lean over the table, press her eyes shut and roll the fruit around in her mouth, savoring it. She looked extremely satisfied.

I never thought I could be jealous of strawberries.

“Should I give you two a minute alone?” I had to break the mood, I didn't want a hard-on unless I was planning to use it.

Flora opened her eyes and regarded me with confusion at the question, then strained amusement once she realized it was just a joke.

“Pass me that mixing bowl,” I continued.

“Sure,” she said, getting up. Both her eyes and mine widened when she grabbed the mixing bowl. My gun was lying right behind it.

I'd honestly forgot all about setting it there. The more stressful the time, the more I focused on cooking to escape.
That would be one hell of a way to go out.

I damn near laughed out loud when a vision of me shot to death, doing dishes, flashed in my mind. Of all the ways to die, I'd have bet a lot of money that it wouldn't have been in the kitchen. Although, considering it for the first time, a part of me found that strangely comforting.

Flora hesitated, not realizing I was watching her. Her expression betrayed an inner turmoil about whether she should go for it or not. I might've been able to reach her in time if she did, but for some reason, I didn't think it would come to that. As far as she knew, I was helping her. She was getting what she wanted, in the end.

The tension cracked as she reached down. I'd washed the knives first, so on instinct, my hand closed around the next sharpest thing left in the sink—what I hoped was the world's most lethal teaspoon.

Flora's hand floated right by the nine millimeter pistol and sank back into the fruit. She plucked out a piece of honeydew melon and brought the mixing bowl to me.

I let a long, slow breath out.

Washing the spoon, I dried it, then handed it to her. “Here, you're going to need this for the soufflé.”

“You're kidding, right?” she asked, popping the fruit into her mouth.

The oven timer buzzed as if to answer on my behalf.

I quickly cleaned the bowl, dried my hands and put on a set of flowery, white and purple oven mitts. With a stone-faced expression, I clicked the oven off and replied, “I'm deadly serious.”

Smiling wide, Flora stepped to the side to allow me to open the oven door. “Wow!” she gasped in disbelief when I removed the tray that held four ceramic cups with golden-brown tops, placing them on the table. “You made this?” Her incredulous tone came off sharper than I imagined she'd meant it to.

“Ouch.”

“I'm sorry!” Flora laughed, her face reddening as she sat down. “It's just, I never expected a guy like you to be so...” She pierced the eggy cake, then looked up at me, eyebrows raised high as she tried to suppress her smile. She shrugged. “Domesticated?”

“If you're going to wound me...” I took off the mitts and snatched my pistol up off the table. I popped out the magazine to check that it actually was fully loaded. It was. I snapped it back in, clicked the safety on again and held it out to her, mockingly. “At least use the gun.”

“No thanks, I'll stick to the spoon. Less chance of blowing my own foot off.” She took a bite and let her head lull back. “This might be the best thing I've ever put in my mouth.” Flora caught the mischievous look I shot her way. She chuckled awkwardly, immediately clarifying. “Food! The best tasting
food
I have ever... yeah. So, uh.” She shoveled in a heaping mouthful, stalling as she searched for a way to change the subject.

“Yes?” I smiled expectantly, cruelly keeping her on the spot. I wanted to see what kind of small talk she'd come up with.

“Have you, um.” She waved her hand in a small circle. “Do you cook often?”

“Not as often as I'd like, convection ovens don't fit easily into the saddlebags.”

Flora muted a smile and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Beneath her crusader exterior, and her paper-thin seduction attempts, she was surprisingly clever. It was nice. I rarely had casual conversations with the girls I surrounded myself with.

“So what's the deal with you? I take it you're in a biker gang, right?” she asked, pointing at my chest. “Who are the Steel Veins?”

The mirth drained from my grin. I looked down at my vest, my closest friend. The weight of the leather was such a part of me that I forgot I still had it on. Since the call with Poet, I was no longer a member. I really shouldn't be wearing it at all. “Something like that. It's a bit of a long story, and with you leaving soon... Really, the less you know the better.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” There were faint hints of melancholy in her resignation. Maybe I was reading into it, but it didn't sound like she was as energetic about going back with the Knights as she once was.

I now had some time to figure out a deal with Lucky that might keep Flora alive; maybe if I formally apologized and offered to pay her worth, or some shit. I didn't know exactly, but I knew I'd think of something. I always worked best under pressure.

“Suffice it to say that, as far as the outlaw MCs go, we're the good guys.”

Flora crinkled her nose. “Except you imprisoned me against my will. That's not a quality I'd associate with 'good guys.'”

“Well... 'good,' most of the time.” I shrugged casually with a smirk. While I had her here, maybe I could prepare her a little for what she'd signed up for. “Still, a comfy bed and breakfast is better than what you'll get with the Knights.”

“What do you know about them? Do you know where they may have taken Claudine?”

I blinked, thinking. “Hard to say. I know that the Knights have some major ties down south, but they've been
very
tight-lipped about this whole transportation gig. Maybe some of the officers in the Veins know more, but I didn't find out about it at all till, well, until you walked in that brothel. It's a mean business, Flora. Human trafficking is some heavy stuff. Not a lot of storybook endings there.”

“Yeah.” She looked past me. Her irises, the shade of clouds preparing for a hurricane, grew distant and unfocused. It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but I needed to be straight with her.

If not for her sake, than mine.

“Why me?” Flora's eyes cleared, she regarded me intently. “Out of all the girls back there, why did you take me?”

The words came out smoothly. “It's my nature, I suppose. I tend to gravitate towards the prettiest thing in the room.”

“Wow, practice that line much?” Flora chuckled, her cheeks reddening a shade. She put the spoon down and picked out the last strawberry. Looking up at me, she smiled, idly biting into the fruit.

I matched her stare. “Every chance I get.”

The way she sat up straighter made me smile.

“You were the greenest girl in there,” I went on to say. “Your eyes were dull from the drugs, but overall still vibrant. You either got yourself into heroin recently, or it took you by surprise. Either way, I knew you were worth more to them than the rest, and I wanted to hurt the Knights any way I could.”

“Oh.” Had my answer deflated her? She swallowed, then asked, “Speaking of them... When are they coming, by the way?”

“Unfortunately, not until tomorrow. Something came up.”

She tilted her mouth, pretty lips forming into a tight rosebud. It was obvious my news had upset her. Fuck, how could I make it clear that she had to back off of this path?

A noise in the distance made me immediately forget whatever lie I was about to tell. It was the distinct chug of a Harley motorcycle, getting closer by the second.

This time of year, with the chill of winter rearing its ugly head, most casual riders had their bikes in storage. That left mostly just MC members cruising around. The occasional, unaffiliated straggler or hardened rider would stick it out till the end of the month or so. What struck me as odd, was why anyone would come down a long, dead end drive to a bed and breakfast that was closed during the week, just to turn around and go back the other way?

Unless they were here for a purpose.

Flora said something, but I didn't hear her; I was too engrossed with concentrating on the sound.

The Harley wasn't alone.

“Roach, you dirty—” I shot up, stuffing my gun into the back of my pants and checking that I had everything else I needed for a quick escape. “Flora, we have to go. Now.”

“What's going on?” she asked, thrown off by my sudden movement.

“The Knights are here.”

“They're early? I thought you said—”

I reached for her. “Listen to me closely. We have to go.”

“No.” Flora jerked backwards, stepping just out of range. “No. This was the plan. I appreciate what you've done for me, but, I'm going with them!”

The bikes roared, tearing up the country road. It wouldn't be long now. “Dammit, girl! We don't have time for this! I'll explain later.” I lunged for her, this time firmly latching onto her arm and pulling her towards the foyer. I'd drag her out of here if I had to.

“Let me go! I'm going with them, I
have
to!” Her free arm punched my chest ineffectually.

“Flora, they're not going to take you to your fucking sister! Listen to me, they're—” That's when I felt cold steel jamming into the side of my head. I should've been paying more attention.

Insects are sneaky like that.

“Do what the girl says, Ronin.” Roach's voice oozed with smugness. I felt my gun get lifted out of the back of my pants. The sneaky prick must've slipped into the kitchen when my back was turned.

Gritting my teeth, I hissed a warning. “Flora, they're going to kill—” The thick wooden stock of Roach's revolver staggered me when it connected with the side of my head. The searing pain brought a burst of white fireworks to my eyes, but it was Roach's second strike that dropped me.

Only then did I feel Flora's forearm slip from my fingers.

The rumbling engines outside slowed to a rapid purr, like that of great metal cats that had finished their hunt. Then they turned off, causing the sound to cut out completely.

The Knights of the Only Order had arrived.

Ronin

––––––––

S
till in a daze, I finally managed to get the full warning out. “They're going to kill you, Flora, you have to get out of here.”

“Oh, they're not going to kill you.” Roach attempted to soothe Flora's growing apprehension. “I heard the whole story from the Knights. You'd be reunited with your loving sister by now if it wasn't for Ronin.” He shot me a derisive look. “'Ronin.' That means 'a master-less samurai' or some bullshit, right? Talk about fitting.” He laughed hoarsely. “You see,
Ronin
here has a problem with authority. He can't keep his pride in check, and now because of it, he got himself kicked out of his own fucking club.”